


we won't be apart for long

by Laroyena



Series: Mamabird Universe [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Porn, Dubious Consent, Inappropriate Behavior, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Rough Sex, Sad Ending, This is the beginning, Tragic Romance, Underage Sex, and things are shitty, because things get fixed in the first fic, ish, overall this series has a happy ending, where Bruce is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laroyena/pseuds/Laroyena
Summary: The truth was, he knew he spoiled Dick too much.
(Batman Omegaverse: the beginning and the end of the Dynamic Duo. Dick may only be fifteen, but he is beautiful. In which Bruce is inappropriate as hell.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> There've been a couple requests for me to write out the beginning of Dick and Bruce's relationship in the Mamabird Universe, and after a while I decided to give my best shot. This story is mostly tragic-- not a very happy ending at all, mostly because things are resolved later on in their life (in the first fic, [what happened across the sea.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7287868))
> 
> Mamabird!Bruce is probably the most assholeish of all my Bruces. Warning for super inappropriate and problematic behavior from everyone, and for general crazytown shenanigans. Bonus extra for those who've been keeping up with the rest of the verse. Thanks and happy thanksgiving for my fellow Americans *u*
> 
> (btw [Aeedee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee) is like amazing at inappropriate Brudick porn and I have absorbed a lot of headcanons from all their fics. Shout out for inspiring me to write my own;;;;)

The truth was, he knew he spoiled Dick too much. He went up against enemies far stronger than himself on a regular basis. Facing down the boy’s teary pout should’ve been nothing.

“Bruce,” the boy said, eyes big and blue. He’s snuggle against his side, soft and warm and smelling like _his_. “It’s cold in my room.”

That was just an excuse. Still, Bruce was never able to turn him away from his bed. Dick settled comfortably in the crook of his arm. He buried his little nose into his neck and sighed, and Bruce couldn’t help but nuzzle his hair in return. Dick smelled sweet. Soft.

It was a big reason why he never refused him, even when he knew for a fact that Dick was getting far too old to be sleeping with him. That this, in a sinking and definite manner, was wrong.

\--

Dick was thirteen when he had his first heat.

He’d been acting clingier than usual the last few days: more tactile and demanding despite all the progress they’d made this year in establishing Appropriate Boundaries. He walked into the dining room where his guardian sat reading the newspaper and climbed into his lap like he was nine again, and he was _so_ very distracting.

“Dick,” he finally chided. The teenager let out a little whine and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. He whined again when Bruce tried pulling him off, and something about its pitch thawed Bruce’s heart. He shouldn’t. But if anyone could test his control it was Dick, and so he sighed and curled an arm around his waist in grudging assent.

Dick melted against him. He was warm and—not exactly soft now that he was at the cusp of puberty, but a welcome weight in his arms. Bruce had almost successfully gone back to reading his newspaper when he realized that Dick was pressing soft, appreciative kisses to his jaw. And Bruce. Bruce was loathed to stop him, to his shame.

“B,” Dick sighed, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “It’s so _hot_ in here, I’m dying.”

He kissed his jaw again, slower and a bit harder, which was when Bruce finally came to his senses and put the newspaper down.

He gently tugged Dick’s head back and pressed his nose to the boy’s neck. Bruce stiffened at the unmistakable, cloying scent there.

“Dick,” he said when Dick tried snuggling close. The boy made a distressed noise when Bruce put up a large hand and stopped him in his tracks. “You’re going into heat. I’ll have Alfred take you to your room.” He had to be firm and authoritative. Dick was a pushy brat, after all. He called out, “Alfred!”

“No,” Dick looked devastated, like Bruce had just slaughtered his puppy or something. “No, B, I wanna stay with you.”

“You can’t.” Everything from _I’m an alpha_ to _I don’t know what I’ll do to you_ to _that would be a very bad idea_.

“But I _want to_.”

“That doesn’t matter,” and Bruce’s voice came out harsh with his own frustration. Because some shameful, dark part of himself itched to grab the boy and haul him into his room. Some territorial alpha instinct wanted to take what was so sweetly given, hear more of those pleasurable sounds—

“Alfred,” he called out again, voice more strangled.

The butler emerged and only had to take one look at the scene to understand what was happening.

“No!” Dick struggled when Alfred took a firm grip around his arm. He bared his teeth, omega instincts already riling up. “No, Alfred. I want to stay with Bruce.”

“Master Dick, behave yourself,” Alfred said in his sharpest, most butler-iest voice. Dick’s eyes filled with tears, and Bruce wanted to—

He wanted to—

He abruptly stood from his chair and marched into his study.

He closed those huge mahogany doors to the sound of Dick’s heartbroken cries, his heart twisting unhappily at the omega’s distress. He could still smell Dick on him. He could still feel Dick’s warmth against him, open and willing and practically begging for him.

But Dick was only thirteen, and Bruce was an adult. It meant he had to be the responsible one, no matter how much it hurt.

\--

It took an enormous amount of willpower not to knock down Dick’s door when he heard the boy’s plaintive voice calling out for him.

“Bruce,” he whimpered, audible enough for him to hear it even through the walls and hallway. “B-Bruce…”

He made it all the way to the front of the boy’s door before stopping himself. Clenching his fists so hard his nails dug into his palm, Bruce settled onto his haunches. Ignored the way his cock stiffened just a bit at the delicious smell emanating from inside, because Dick had always smelled nice and Bruce had always had control. He needed control. Except Dick could clearly smell him too, and there was the sound of scuffling coming from within.

“Bruce?” Dick’s voice said, just on the other side of the door. After a lengthy moment broken only by the boy’s faint distressed noises, he saw small fingers wriggle through the crack beneath his door.

He couldn’t help himself. He curled his own hand on those fingers and lay there in the hallway as Dick whimpered. He lay there as the boy tugged his fingers through to the other side and licked them, his small tongue warm and wet against his calluses. Dear _god_. It wasn’t good for either of them to do this. To let Dick find comfort in Bruce’s alpha scent so close to the door, because habits once established were hard to break. Dick needed to separate himself from Bruce. He knew that.

But Bruce was selfish. He was selfish and weak and he _hated_ hearing Dick upset, and so here he was doing all he could short of breaking down the door and sweeping Dick into his arms. If his omega wanted to soak in his scent, he was going to let him. If he wanted to taste his fingers and say his name over and over, he was going to let him. He’d give him the world.

He knew he spoiled Dick too much. He knew it, but he couldn’t _stop_.

\--

“You don’t need me to tell you,” Alfred told him the day after Dick’s heat had finally ended. The butler had dragged the exhausted boy into the bathroom for a much-needed shower and then tucked him into bed.

Bruce brushed back a few stray locks from Dick’s face and shivered when the sleeping boy leaned into his touch.

“It’s infatuation,” he tried explaining to his old friend. “I’m his family alpha, and he’s too young to figure out the difference between a family alpha and a… a mating alpha. His signals are getting crossed.”

Alfred raised a disbelieving brow at him, and Bruce shook his head. He stroked Dick’s cheek with a thumb before finally letting go.

“He _is_ too young,” Alfred said. “But I doubt Dick is ignorant of what he is doing. I just wanted to make sure _you_ know what you’re doing as well.” A stiff pause. “I don’t want either of you hurt.”

Bruce nodded and quietly exited the guest room Alfred had placed the boy in as he cleaned. He shut the door behind him and tried to breathe.

If he went out and bedded a beautiful debutante to take his mind off of the temptation at home, that was his business.

Even if he avoided going home for a few days so her cloying omega scent faded away, though that didn’t stop Dick from throwing him a heartbroken look when he finally did return.

“Dick,” he started, and shut his mouth when the young boy turned heel and fled back to his room. The rejection smarted, even if he deserved it.

This was better for both of them. Dick will see that in time.

\--

Dick stopped crawling into his bed.

It was a good sign. The boy was moving on, as he should; developing healthier relationships with others his own age and therefore less dependant on Bruce’s affection.

It was a _good sign_.

\--

Dick was a beautiful omega. Everyone told him so, and those who couldn’t find the courage for words told him in the way they looked at him. Dick couldn’t help but throw a wink at the shy ones and watch them burn tomato red.

“Really, Robin?” Speedy said, annoyed. Robin smiled at him even as the alpha boy leapt down from his vantage point above and curled an arm around his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to make sure no one’s goofing off, team leader?”

“Yeah, but KF’s still got fifteen minutes to get us the info,” Dick said. He neatly shook off Roy’s hold and danced over to the fire escape. He could feel the alpha’s gaze tracing the curve of his shoulder, the delicate flare of his hips. It lingered on his ass before heading down to his smooth ankles.

Dick curled his cape below him and swung his legs, nonchalant.

“So while Wally takes his sweet old time,” Roy said, shouldering his bow. “How ‘bout we talk about something else. Like that new movie’s that coming out.”

“The one with the snake man or the one with sticky webs?”

“Snake man? Oh, Harry Potter,” Roy shook his head. “Whichever one you like better.”

Dick considered him. Roy’s interest in him was… cute. It was nice to be so overtly wanted; to know that, on a date, he could smile and kiss and sigh and be greeted with enthusiasm. It was a dick move even for someone named Dick, but he couldn’t help it.

“Sure,” he said, and smiled when Roy threw a genuine grin at him in return. “Tomorrow night, yeah?”

“It’s a date,” Speedy agreed. He was bold enough to offer a hand to help him down; bold enough to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks.

“Make sure you pick me up at the post office, though,” Dick said before he could forget. He always had his dates pick him up at the post office. It hadn’t happened yet, but Dick suspected Bruce would tear the limbs off any alpha stupid enough to try and pick Dick up from _home_.

He may play this game far too much to be innocent, but he drew the line at actual carnage. Bruce would never forgive himself, and then Dick wouldn’t have a chance at all.

\--

“ _Dick_ ,” Bruce’s voice greeted him the moment he came home. Dick sighed and flicked on the light, illuminating the room and casting a strange glow onto his guardian’s face. Apparently Bruce had been waiting for him on the couch, the creep. “Where have you been.”

“Around,” Dick said, tossing his jacket onto a chair. He plopped down in the chair beside it and turned so he was facing away from Bruce, ignoring him entirely. He didn’t move, not even when that tantalizing scent drew closer and closer. Bruce had always smelled sinfully good: like home and sex and crackling power. Like lazy mornings and warm cuddles, and Dick wanted to bury himself in it forever. Still, that would ruin the game. He shivered when a large hand cradled his jaw from behind and tilted his head up.

“You were with someone,” Bruce said, voice flat. His fingers were rough but warm, and Dick purred into the touch. “Who?”

“Speedy.”

“Oliver’s kid?” and then Bruce’s grip tightened just a bit. Dick gently put a hand on his wrist, placating. “He’s an alpha.”

“Hm,” Dick agreed. He turned and gave Bruce a coy look, inwardly thrilling at the expression Bruce was wearing. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him. It was amazing how easily Bruce convinced the other heroes that he was a Responsible Adult, like he wasn’t one of the youngest members of the Justice League at under thirty-years-old. That despite getting his undergrad at—what? Seventeen?—his emotional maturity fluctuated between a toddler and a college freshman, and sometimes one had to just sit through a sulking or two to get anything out of him.

Hence, the game.

“Nothing,” Bruce finally said. He didn’t take his hand away, even when Dick tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Though you should be careful.”

“Why?”

“He’s an alpha.”

“So?”

“He’s older than you.”

“Hmm,” and Dick couldn’t help the lazy grin spreading across his face. Bruce released his chin when Dick turned around fully and sat up. He looped his arms around the man’s broad shoulders and nuzzled his stubbled cheek. “You’re both those things, B. Y’saying I should be careful ‘round you?”

Bruce’s hands settled on his hips, less of a suggestion and more of a warning.

He growled in a low enough voice to send a shiver up Dick’s spine, “ _Always_.”

And then he picked Dick up like he weighed nothing and hauled him upstairs. Dick laughed and wrapped his legs around his waist. He cuddled as close as he could, because even though Bruce was probably just going to toss him in his room and slam the door, Dick had clearly won this round.

“Good night,” Dick chirped once Bruce disentangled himself before his room. “Sweet dreams.”

“Brat,” Bruce hissed and stalked into his own room without a look back.

Dick licked his lips as he got ready for bed. The lingering alpha scent on his skin sent something hot sizzling down to his groin, but what was new. He’d been barely thirteen when he decided who he wanted to be his alpha; and anyone who knew Dick Grayson knew he could be a stubborn son of a bitch.

\--

The date was fine.

Speedy was a gentleman, Robin was appropriately enthused by the movie, and things were great.

Until after Dick had paid for dinner and skipped back to the table to find Roy sighing into his hands. Oh.

“I can’t compete with him, can I?” the redhead turned to him boldly, gaze sad but accepting. Roy had always been observant, enough so that he should have guessed the archer would figure the game out.

Still, Dick evaded: “Who?”

“Batman,” Speedy clarified, which Dick had to give him credit for. Not everyone could voice it aloud so easily. “Y’know I’m not dumb, right?”

“You’re not,” Dick agreed. He put a hand on Roy’s and said, gently, “And you are a good alpha. Handsome. Smart.”

“But I can’t compete,” Roy finished.

Dick may be an asshole, but he wasn’t going to lie. He nodded and watched with mixed emotion as Roy gathered his coat and strode out the door. One reason he’d accepted Roy’s offer in the first place was because of his maturity and steadfastness.

No matter how shitty things felt right now, their friendship will survive.

\--

A Teen Titan mission gone wrong ended with a syringe in Dick’s neck.

“Ah fuck,” Kid Flash muttered while reading the spectrometer results from his impromptu substance analysis. Dick stared blankly at the ceiling above them. “Fuck, fuck.”

“No thank you,” Dick grumbled from the table.

“It’s a heat inducer,” Wally said. “High-grade stuff, super concentrated. Used in the sex slave rings, clearly.”

“How long.”

Wally didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “At least thirty minutes from injection so… in ten minutes or so.”

Dick grunted and rolled onto his stomach. Wally threw him an alarmed look when he stumbled towards the exit.

“Dick!” Wally grabbed his arm. Dick glared at him and shook his hand off. “You’re not going anywhere—not in this state!”

“You think I can’t fight off any alpha that tries to get frisky.”

“No, I just—Dick, there’s no getting around this,” and Wally actually looked nervous, like it was any news to Dick that a high-grade heat inducer could actually, you know. _Induce heat_. The higher grade the drug was, the more dire the consequences of ignoring its effects.

Wally picked at his sleeve and glanced down at the floor. “You’ll probably have to find a partner for this, and I know. I know things are awkward between you and Roy, but it seems like the best option…”

“No.”

“Well the _other_ choices are me and Garth, and I know we’re friends but I don’t…”

“ _No._ ”

“Dick,” Wally pled, but he was already stumbling towards the zeta platform. “Dick! Where are you going?”

“Home,” Dick said—and then held his breath just as he threw a sleeping bomb at Wally’s dumbstruck face.

\--

“Robin?” a familiar voice asked. Dick wiped his forehead with a forearm and glanced back towards the mouth of the alley, where good old Commissioner Gordon was looking at him like he’d grown two heads.

“Uh, yeah, sorry Commissioner. Self-defense. You know how it is. They’re alive,” Dick reassured him once the commissioner stepped forward to look at the badly-beaten alphas at his feet. “Just. Not exactly in the best state to be _subtle_.”

And before he could get a good enough whiff of his rapidly deteriorating state, Dick shot a grapple line up and swung onto the nearest rooftop. He managed to flip and stumble over a few blocks before he had to take a breather. He must have been more out of it than he’d thought, because one second he was slumped behind a poorly-kept exhaust pipe and the next, there was a familiar dark shadow looming above him.

“Bruce,” he recognized at once. Bruce actually let him wrap his arms around his neck and press his face into his shoulder; let him breathe his calming alpha smell until the worst of his irrational, instinctual panic passed. He hadn’t realized how on-edge he’d been until Bruce’s grip around Dick’s waist eased the heat’s fears.

Foreign alphas; crowded, open spaces; unfamiliar territory and no pack in sight. A terrible situation for a vulnerable omega, even one who could take down five alphas with nothing but his stupid, slicked-up thighs and a bloody batarang.

Bruce carefully scooped him up and carried him to the Batmobile, Dick clinging to his cowl the entire way. When he tried to settle Dick in the backseat, however, the boy put up a fight.

“No,” he whined, tightening his grip. “No, wanna stay with you.” He was limber and flexible and very used to clinging to struggling objects, and so Bruce gave up after a few more minutes of struggling. He threw the keys over the separator between the front and back compartments—to Alfred, undoubtedly, though Dick barely had the brain power to care—and crawled into the backseat with Dick, who curled against him at once.

The car roared to life below them.

It was warm. Warm and dizzying and everything he hated the most about heats, but he was _safe_.

He undid his jockstrap and pulled down the worst of his slick-soaked tights, exposing himself shamelessly. Given that he was still in Bruce’s lap, he probably should have been more embarrassed. He wasn’t.

“You should have called one of us,” Bruce said, showing jaw-dropping self-restraint for an alpha. Dick would have been impressed if he wasn’t dying to be mauled. The omega whined when he rested a large hand on his bare hip and _left it there_. _God,_ he could barely think… “Wandering Gotham in broad daylight smelling like _that_ …”

“Beat the crazies up,” Dick tried to defend himself, pressing his face into Bruce’s cowled neck.

“ _In broad daylight_. Commissioner Gordon just had to follow the trail of bleeding bodies to find you. Reckless. Stupid.”

“No,” Dick whined. He hated being scolded.

“Called me the moment you ran. You could have gotten hurt.”

Dick licked his exposed jaw in an attempt to stop the disapproval. The air immediately changed, going sharp and almost spicy with alpha scent. It was the scent that haunted his wet dreams, and Dick couldn’t help but tilt his head and lick him again. He placed his hand on Bruce’s chest to balance himself as he kissed his jaw, and the older man’s heart beat erratically under his palm.

“Enough,” Bruce said in direct contrast to how his hand squeezed his side; how dark his pupils were in the sunlight; how his erection pressed hot against his ass. Dick couldn’t help but roll his hips just a bit, and shivered when the cock beneath him swelled even further.

Bruce’s hands twitched.

“Bruce,” Dick pled. He straddled the man’s lap entirely, wriggling so his clothed erection fit snuggly between his thighs. Bruce let out a hard breath, and Dick knew him enough to recognize that sound. Aroused. Frustrated. He waited until his own thumping heartbeat slowed before gently deactivating the safeguards around Batman’s cowl.

He pulled it back with steady hands.

Bruce’s bare face stared back at him with assessing, brilliant eyes, even as his cheeks flushed prettily. God, he was so handsome.

“Bruce,” he repeated, and then cradled his alpha’s jaw in his hands. “Take care of me?”

Bruce sighed: “Dick.”

“Came home just for you,” Dick stressed. He kissed him under a sapphire-blue eye and stroked beneath it with a thumb. “Please.”

“You’re fifteen,” Bruce said lowly. His eyes fluttered shut when Dick kissed him under his other eye, and Dick knew he was starting to really crack through that wall of self-restraint. “You’re too young.”

“ _Someone_ has to take care of me,” Dick said. He leaned in and kissed him on the lips, licking in confidently and sighing at the taste of Bruce’s mouth. At the gentle way the alpha kissed him back, and he could’ve gotten swept up in it if Bruce hadn’t pulled away first. Dick whined and nuzzled his cheek. “Want it to be you, B.”

“Dick…”

“Please,” Dick whispered, and felt his heart flutter when Bruce finally, _finally_ nodded.

\--

They didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

Alfred, bless him, handled necessary responsibilities like parking the Batmobile and hunting down warm towels; and Dick would’ve been more mortified by the butler’s unintentional voyeurism if he wasn’t so busy licking into Bruce’s mouth.

“Bruce,” he whined when the alpha shoved him onto the medbay cot, clearly dismissing the idea of hauling him up two flights of stairs. Dick gasped when Bruce ran his sharp alpha teeth down his neck, as he undid the top two buttons of his Robin collar and licked into the dip of his collarbone. He squirmed when a large hand pressed against his own erection, the heel of Bruce’s palm rough under his cockhead and his fingers resting still against his _sensitive_ vestigial balls.

“Touch me,” he pled, running his hands around Bruce’s side and fondling with his utility belt. “Please, _please_ —”

“Dick,” Bruce said, and Dick shut up. Bruce didn’t respond to pleading, only requests. Still, he mewled unhappily when the alpha pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. When he kept his hand pressed against his erection, a steady pressure that felt good but just wasn’t enough.

“ _Dick_ ,” Bruce repeated.

“Please,” Dick whispered once more, and it must have been piteous enough because Bruce did. He wrapped a firm hand around his cock and carefully stroked, and it was—it was warm and pleasant and sent shivers up Dick’s spine. He tilted his head back and licked his lips until Bruce kissed him.

They kissed over and over, each one a hot promise as Dick lightly thrust into Bruce’s fist. As he managed to wriggle out of his pants and underwear so he could spread his legs freely. He began to shiver harder, longer, toes curling and uncurling as the heat built up under his skin—and Bruce began to jerk him off in earnest. Running a stray finger under the sensitive underside of the head; reaching down with his other hand and lightly rolling his balls; and then reaching further back to where he was _soaked_ , stroking his perineum—

He came with a whine, spilling clear fluid onto Bruce’s Batsuit and filling the air around them with the smell of slick. It felt amazing but it wasn’t completion, not when his entire being ached more than ever. He needed Bruce out of those clothes _now._

When he went to unbuckle Bruce’s belt with nimble fingers, however, Bruce grabbed him by the wrist and manhandled him onto his back.

“Dick, this is going to hurt,” Bruce warned, unbuckling the belt himself and tossing it aside. The pants went next, and there his naked cock was. Swollen red and wet with pre-cum, unfamiliar enough Dick couldn’t help but stare. And then Bruce grabbed his ankles and practically bent him in half, legs hooked over broad shoulders, and—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dick yelped, his entire body jerking in pain. He grabbed the back of Bruce’s neck and squeezed so hard his fingers bled white. “No, it’s not going to—you’re not going to fit—”

“I know you can take it,” B said, voice only a little hoarse. He kissed into Dick’s mouth like that would distract him from the stinging, burning sensation of being split open on the head of his cock; the relentless push inward as unused muscle was forced to stretch around an intrusion. It hurt as much as it felt just right, and the juxtaposition was making his head spin. “You’re slick enough. Just relax.”

“O-okay,” Dick tried to breathe. He wanted him deep inside as much as he wanted him _out_. Bruce kissed him again, soft and gentle, and soothed his sides with his calloused hands. He ran them up his arms and then down to his waist, until he was caressing Dick’s ass like it was the most precious thing in the world. Dick sighed into the next kiss and the next, and only winced a little when Bruce finally managed to slide all the way in.

“You’re so tight,” Bruce whispered, eyes fluttering shut. He looked… enraptured, and even past the discomfort it turned Dick on to see him in pleasure. “So tight and _hot_ , Dick, it’s…”

“Too big,” Dick couldn’t help but complain, and yelped when the cock inside of him swelled further. “Hey!”

Bruce grunted in apology. “Needed to get in you.” A heavy pause. Dick took a breath. Then another. He was unclenching slowly—very slowly—taking advantage of every second Bruce stayed still.

Then, Bruce managed in a near-whisper: “I think your scent’s sending me into a rut. Be ready.”

“For wha—” Dick managed, right before Bruce drew back and fucked into him _deep_. He yelped in surprise, but that didn’t stop the alpha. He fucked him with long, hard thrusts that hurt, that knocked the breath right out of him until he couldn’t tell what was up or down.

“ _Bruce_ ,” he whined, one hand caught between shoving the alpha off and pulling him so close they lived in each other’s skin. He could only flounder in the helpless feeling of being bent in half and trapped under the alpha’s weight, being forced to simply take the savage pace. “So—too fast—”

“Bear it,” Bruce said gruffly. It would have been callous from anyone else, but Dick knew what B meant: that Dick was strong enough to handle this. That he trusted Dick to be strong enough, and he hated that and loved that and he could barely _think._

He pressed his face into Bruce’s neck and took deep breaths of that familiar alpha scent. He let it warm his omega heart until his heat purred in pleasure; until the pounding began to hurt less and less as it started to soothe that ache inside of him; until Dick’s little whimpers were less in grimaced pain and more in arousal.

“Let my legs go,” he squirmed against the hands keeping his thighs firmly pressed to his chest. Bruce had slowed just a bit, subconsciously reacting to his body’s acceptance. “I can’t—I can’t move like this.”

He let out a startled noise when Bruce let go and hauled him up so fast he nearly kicked him in the face with his flying legs. It was enough to dislodge his cock with a pop, and Dick missed its weight for about two seconds before Bruce rearranged him in his lap and pulled him down again. The smooth slide in surprised him; his body had adjusted faster than he’d thought.

“Oh,” Dick sighed once they were fully locked together again. He kissed Bruce’s cheeks, nose, mouth in soft affection, wrapping his arms around his neck and purring when large hands settled on his hip and the upper curve of his ass. When the alpha began thrusting up into him again, Dick was free to roll his hips down. It was so right he wanted to cry. “ _Oh_ yes—”

The ache started to spread, a warm deep-seated pleasure that started from that sweet spot inside and radiated out to his cock, chest and up his spine. Until Dick was fucking down as hard as Bruce was fucking up, kissing him adoringly because he was _so_ close—

He gasped into his mouth as he came, though this time from the inside rather than out. It was a foreign feeling of satisfaction, different than the solo heats he’d had before. This was real and right, and this beautiful man below him was his alpha. _His._ Bruce groaned as Dick continued to clench around him. As his half-swollen knot swelled even further inside Dick’s channel until it finally locked them in place.

They breathed each other’s air while tied together, coming down from the blood-rushing endorphins his heat had incited in both of them. Then Bruce bowed his head and moaned deep and low and Dick’s insides went hot. Oh fuck.

Bruce was _coming_ inside of him, and Dick wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. He snuffled B’s neck to keep from giggling like a maniac, and easily allowed the alpha to pull them down onto the badly rattling cart and arrange them on their sides. Dick hooked his free leg over Bruce’s hip and snuggled closer, comforted by the warm weight of his alpha’s cock pulsing inside of him. They were as close as they could get. As close they had always been spiritually, because this had all started before Dick’s first heat, no matter how much Bruce denied it.

It hadn't taken long for Dick to know that Bruce he was _his._

“Dick,” Bruce managed after fifteen minutes spent just stroking the omega’s arm. Dick wrinkled his nose and pulled down Batman’s ragged cowl enough to really kiss his neck. “ _Dick_.”

“Hmm,” Dick purred in response. Bruce smelled so good. He smelled even better than he tasted or sounded, and Dick loved both of those things. He ground down on their tie when Bruce opened his mouth to try again, and the older man growled in reprimand. Didn’t stop him from looping an arm around Dick’s waist and coming once more, and Dick could get addicted to that flash of bliss on Bruce’s face.

After another while, Bruce smartened up enough to blurt out his thought at once: “This can’t happen again.”

Dick sighed. Bruce was already beginning to draw back into his shell, entire body stiffening beside him, and Dick wondered why the man was so allergic to open affection. He lay his head on Bruce’s chest and closed his eyes, like that could stop him.

“This time… the compound in your system. Requires consummation to relieve its effects. All other methods can drag it on for weeks and cause irreparable damage.”

Dick sighed again. It was long and weary and there was no way Bruce couldn’t hear the frustration in it.

His pedantic nonsense trailed off, and he managed: “This is… inappropriate. You deserve the best. A good life.”

Dick didn’t open his eyes. He just lifted his free arm up and then gracelessly plopped his hand on Bruce’s head. This got the man to shut up, especially once he started carding his fingers through soft, dark hair and rubbing his thumb against his temple.

“No,” he yawned, cracking his eyes open enough to see Bruce’s stoic face grimacing down at him. “This _is_ going to happen again.”

“Dick…” and that subtle waver in his otherwise Batman-ly voice meant he was pleading for Dick to not press this further. To let them fall back into whatever-the-hell they were doing before—which was impossible.

Dick nipped that idea in the bud without mercy.

“This is going to happen again,” he repeated before tracing his hand down to cup Bruce’s jaw. He leaned in and kissed him hard and deep, possessive enough something fundamental inside of him purred in pleasure.

Sure, the reality of Bruce’s infuriating habits of denial—of prioritizing others over Dick, of prioritizing the _mission_ over Dick—was going to hit him over the head for real tomorrow. But that didn’t change what he said.

They’d crossed a line that was impossible to uncross, and there was no use denying it.

\--

(Wally looked at him askance for at least a week before working up the nerve to ask.

“So,” he started. Dick ignored him and continued to input the coordinates Donna had gotten them into the console. “You’re… better.”

“Yup.”

“Means you found someone after you, you know…” Wally mimed gagging. “Knocked me out?”

Dick clicked enter. “…yup.”

“With who?”

“You know that’s not any of your business,” Dick frowned at the results to keep from having to look at Wally directly.

His friend held up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, just. We’re BFFs, you know? I know it was your first time… sharing your heat and everything. Just checking in.”

Dick softened and glanced over at the beta boy scratching the back of his neck. There was a host of unspoken dialogue between them: that Wally only knew Dick had found someone because he’d returned to the field so soon; that Dick’s departing words left few options to the _who_ question; and Dick’s refusal to say left pretty much one awkward option.

Wally was nosy and unmannered, but he knew when to respect Dick’s space.

“I’m fine, Wall,” he said with a wry grin. “Really.”

“Okie-dokie,” the speedster bit his lip and that was the end of that.)

\--

“You disobeyed a direct order.”

“If I hadn’t, you’d be a _Batman pancake_ —”

“That jump was manageable.”

“Not in that weather!”

Bruce snarled at this ridiculous boy—teenager, he corrected himself, because at sixteen Dick hadn’t been a child for a while. Even if he still acted like it, given the petulant way the omega slumped in the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

“Disobedience is not tolerated,” Bruce snapped. “You’re benched for the rest of the mission.”

“Like _hell_ I am!” Dick sat up and—breaking protocol again, because clearly he was in a full-on teenage tantrum—tore off his domino mask and threw it into the backseat. Bruce refused to let those angry blue eyes dissuade him. “I’m not some kid you can boss around anymore. If you think I’m going to just sit back and let you get yourself killed—”

“Put your mask back on,” Bruce snapped.

“—then you’re _wrong_ , because I won’t!”

“This isn’t up for debate. Now _put your mask back on_.”

“No,” Dick refused, and only set his jaw even further when Bruce pulled the Batmobile over on the abandoned edge of the access tunnel they’d been coasting in. He shut off the engine.

“ _Robin_ ,” Bruce said, voice a low growl. One more out, and the boy better take it.

Dick just crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

“No,” the boy said flatly—and was smart enough not to yell when Bruce suddenly lurched forward and shoved him face-first into the window. He grabbed one gloved hand and twisted it behind his back. Placed his mouth against the sensitive skin of Dick’s nape and let him feel the pinprick edges of his alpha teeth, and Dick shivered beneath him.

“This is about trust, Robin,” he said stoically. He placed his other hand on Dick’s hip. “It won’t work if you don’t trust my judgment. My ability to assess my own skills. Insubordination only breeds dangerous strife.”

Dick hissed at him, back arching into Bruce’s touch. He forced himself to control his breathing. Fuck. Dick was always beautiful, but nothing could beat the sheer rage Bruce felt whenever Dick pulled stunts like this. Bucking against established protocol to prove his independence and driving Bruce _completely insane_ in the process.

“Do you trust me,” Bruce said. Dick didn’t reply, and the alpha pressed his alpha teeth more firmly on his neck. One bite. One bite and a lick and a mating bond would link them together, tie this capricious omega to him in a far more secure way than any flimsy wardship contract. It wasn’t irreversible, no, but mating bonds were more difficult to break than a simple no-strings-attached roll in the shack.

“Don’t,” Dick said when Bruce refused to let his neck go. He’d gone absolutely still. “Bruce, _don’t_.”

“Do you trust me,” Bruce repeated. The omega breathed shallowly beneath him. Not scared, no. Not his brave Robin.

“Always,” Dick finally sighed, and Bruce couldn’t help the flood of pleasure that brought him. He was hard. Painfully hard, had been ever since Dick had torn off his mask and began filling the air with distressed omega pheromones, and he wanted so, so much to just _take_.

“But B, trust is a two-way street,” Dick continued. He reached his free hand back and gently placed it over Bruce’s on his hip. His palm was rough from the work but still slender with youth. “You said we’re partners. And partners _listen_ to each other.”

Bruce didn’t respond.

Dick took the silence as approval to continue: “They listen when one points out that they’re acting like a _self-sacrificing asshole.”_

And then he used Bruce’s distracted pause to wriggle out of his one-arm hold and kick Batman square in the chest. Bruce went crashing back into his seat, honestly surprised for a second, and then Dick was crawling up his torso and kissing him hard. It was angry and desperate, with no finesse involved as Dick ignored tongue and teeth and breathing, honestly, not until Bruce yanked him back by the hair.

Dick kneed him in the stomach in retaliation. Bruce grabbed him up by the thigh hard enough to bruise, manhandling him onto his back with the omega fighting him tooth and nail the entire way.

“Hate you,” Dick snarled, “Hate you, hate you.”

“I know,” Bruce unclasped his jockstrap and tossed it into the backseat to keep the domino mask company. He tore off his pants and dipped his fingers inside the boy’s slick entrance, and wasn’t sure if he was gratified or disappointed when Dick wrapped his legs around his waist instead of, you know.

Kicking him in the face.

It wasn’t the first time they fucked in the Batmobile, and it wouldn’t be the last. Even if it was almost unbearably uncomfortable to sprawl over the cup-holders between the two seats; to squeeze two men in a space not meant to be used for horizontal activities; to sometimes catch Dick crying in frustration. Not in pain.

“I worry about you,” Dick whispered, shivering as Bruce sank into him. He spread around him so easily now, like a perfect fit, and it felt so good. Unrightfully good. “Bruce, please.”

He couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t send both of them into another raging argument, and so he pressed soft kisses to Dick’s eyelids instead. The omega mewled in protest but didn’t push—just fell into the gratifying rhythm of them moving together. They took pleasure in each other’s bodies, because Dick… Dick felt _right_.

It was in these perfect moments that Bruce could pretends things were okay. Not strained or balanced or on the cusp of exploding as it usually was. That with this beautiful omega moaning and writhing beneath him—around him—things were going to be okay.

\--

Selina slapped him hard on the cheek. The pain of it nearly rivaled the way Bruce’s heart bled when Dick caught sight of them kissing in the parlor. The boy had fled at once, and before Bruce could go after him—

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you, Wayne,” Selina hissed. She jabbed a finger to his chest. “You smell claimed, and I _won’t_ be the other woman. I thought better of you.”

Bruce forced his hands to stay in his pockets. Soothing the undoubtedly blossoming bruise on his cheek would’ve betrayed weakness. “It’s not what you think.”

“I may just be a beta, but I’m not scent-blind,” Selina said. “It’s exactly what I think.”

Bruce didn’t respond. Selina gathered her coat from the coat rack and pulled it on while mumbling angrily under her breath. Purse secured and garments all buttoned, she yanked open the front door and glared at Bruce with those piercing Catwoman eyes he sometimes loathed.

“Dick deserves better,” she said, and slammed the door behind her on the way out.

Dick _did_ deserve better, a sentiment Bruce had tried expressing countless times before and after The Incident. If Bruce was a better man, he would have stopped all of this. He wasn’t.

Bruce sighed and went to his study.

Dick crept in sometime past ten and a half, pale and exhausted and… well. Not exactly defeated. Accepting, perhaps, and Bruce had never wanted to put that expression on his face. Dick crawled into his lap and cradled his chin in his hands, and then they were kissing. It was soft. Very, very soft, and Bruce knew better than to fall for this.

He did, but he couldn’t help it. Not with Dick so sweet and indulgent, inspiring him to be sweet and indulgent in kind. To peel off his simple dress shirt and slacks like he was uncovering a treasure and spreading the omega across the table. To spoil Dick like he always wanted, so tender and drawn out that he writhed beneath him.

“Things aren’t okay,” Dick said quietly once it was over, head bowed in the flickering fireplace light. He sat cross-legged beside Bruce’s sprawled form on the floor, stark naked and completely unashamed of it.

He glanced down at Bruce, unsure, and reached a hand out. Bruce grasped it in his own and wondered if Dick would ask. About Selina. About them. The omega did none of those things. He crawled back into Bruce’s embrace and pillowed his head on his chest, and Bruce was too cowardly to say the words himself.

The Great Batman, a coward until the end. It’d be almost ironic if it weren’t so tragic.

\--

(There were good times, too. Great times. Sex colored not only their arguments but their joy, and there was nothing better than a post-successful mission romp. Bruce lightened up enough for a smile and would let Dick jump into arms, and they'd go tumbling down to the beautiful sound of the omega's laughter. Or when Dick's good mood had him whirling about all playful and teasing, until he coaxed Bruce out of the cowl and shoved him into a bedroom because he needed him _now_.

There were good times, and they were marvelous. But all things came to an end.)

\--

Ironically, it had less to do with sex and more to do with their partnership. The Dynamic Duo, Batman and Robin—the ideal hero-sidekick pair that had started the system of underage vigilantes running about.

Dick was sixteen when, with a bolt of sudden clarity, he realized Bruce was never going to let him _breathe._

He wasn’t unprepared. Accommodations at Wally’s first, and then Clark’s; his suitcase packed and his most cherished items stowed safely away; and Alfred. Oh, Alfred. Dick hated seeing the butler caught in the crossfire, but apparently they weren’t the only ones aware of the eventual implosion of their relationship.

“It hurts my heart to see you go through this, Master Dick,” Alfred said quietly once he caught Dick packing away the last of his belongings. The omega had jumped but hadn’t bothered hiding his actions. “And it will hurt my heart to see Master Bruce suffering too.”

“Sorry, Alfie,” Dick stood up and gave the stoic butler a firm hug. He put up with it with his usual British aplomb, and even patted Dick’s hair just a bit. The omega stepped back and cast a glance down at the floor. “But I… I need to do this.”

Alfred inclined his head and quietly excused himself. Dick pulled the door shut and put his head in his hands.

For all his resolve, worry and stress and wrongness ate at his gut. He wiped his forehead and took a few deep breaths. Was it nerves? Hormones? It was too early for his heat, but leaving his alpha definitely warranted a few hormonal backlashes. Taking birth control pills usually soothed that, and he needed all the help he could get.

He crawled over to the table and upended the drawers looking for the little packet of pills. Ten minutes of nothing, and he had to accept that he probably packed them somewhere. And Dick wasn’t turning his suitcases inside out to look for some stupid white pills. He popped an Advil instead and lay on the floor, trying to ignore how tight and uncomfortable his skin felt stretched over his body.

“He’s back,” Alfred eventually called out from the door. Dick drew himself up. He could do this. No matter how much it hurt them both, he knew it was for the best.

\--

“Bruce, wait,” he gasped, back on the hard ground of the Batcave and pants tangled around his ankle. “ _Wait_ …”

Bruce didn’t wait. Just pressed him down with a hand to the chest and fucked right into him, and it felt so right it sent a shiver through his body. So right it was _wrong_.

Dick's entire body radiated heat, desperation, and he hadn’t—he’d always been regular but—

“Do you hate me,” Bruce whispered once they were knotted together, and Dick was already going to miss the sheer exhilaration of being tied. This closeness he craved with the alpha— _his_ alpha—that had his animal instincts purring from deep within. Dick squirmed and batted Bruce's side until the alpha rolled onto his back and let him settle comfortably on top of him.

Breathing in Bruce’s scent helped soothe the smarting heat. The impossible, too-early heat that threatened to overwhelm him for real, and he cursed his traitorous omega body. It clearly didn't want to leave, even if Dick needed to. They both needed him to, and Dick was above his instincts enough to do what was right.

“How can you ask that,” Dick finally answered, nuzzling his cheek. Bruce stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look into Dick's eyes. The man was hurt. Angry. Already pretending to be a statue when their tie pretty much forced Dick to stick around for at least another half hour. He kissed Bruce’s stubbled cheek again and stroked his arm with a hand. “I love you, Bruce. So much.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let out a breath beneath him. And then, so quietly he almost didn't catch it, he said: "Then why are you leaving."

Dick didn't bother answering. He just pressed his cheek to Bruce’s neck and tried not to let the tears fall, because if Bruce thought this was easy for him… well. It wasn't.

It was agony, and damn him for not realizing how difficult it was for them both.

\--

"You okay?" Wally asked when he brought a clean set of bedsheets and a pillowcase to the guest room he'd prepared for his friend. "You've been... quiet."

"I'm fine, Wall," Dick said. He stretched out on the bed and put his hand on his stomach. He didn't even move when Wally plopped down hard enough beside him for the mattress to bounce. "Really."

"Okie dokie," the speedster said, patting Dick's hair. He let himself out when he didn't respond.

\--

Three months later, his heat didn’t come.

When he got the results, he broke the little stick into several pieces and flushed it down the toilet. He put his face in his hands and breathed. One hour to panic, and then one hour to plan.

"You're pregnant," Babs said incredulously, and Dick sighed from the other end of the video call.

"Yup," he said with steel-backed determination. Because he wasn't going to let anyone take this away from him— not the government, not the Titans.

Not even Bruce.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_extra  
_

 

The minute they stepped into the shop, Damian’s big blue eyes caught sight of the red-and-black bat onesie on display. Dick tried steering him towards less tacky options, to no avail. Damian was not to be a baby denied.

“Ba!” he wailed, face beginning to flush red as he made useless grabby hands at the onesie. “Ba, ba!”

“Dami,” Dick hushed, trying to ignore the other shopping mothers casting judgmental glares at him. Except Damian was in full-on tantrum mode: he fussed, he wailed, he beat tiny fists against Dick’s collar and screamed like he was being goddamn tortured—until Dick gave up and swung back around for it.

The baby stopped crying the moment Dick found a onesie his size and handed it over. He clutched it in his little hands at once, happy and quiet and so  _cute._ Dick kissed the top of his head and smiled when Dami instinctively snuggled into his mother's scent. He spoiled the brat far too much. Still, he couldn’t help it.

“Pigheaded Wayne genes,” Dick said before blowing a raspberry into the baby’s fine, dark hair. Dami blew a raspberry back, and then stuck a red onesie sleeve into his mouth and soaked it with drool. Dick’s heart melted.

The cashier gave him the stink-eye at the register for the mangled mess Damian had made of the onesie, not that it mattered. Damian clearly wasn't going to put the thing back, and Dick handed over his credit card with a sigh.

"Muh-muh-muh," the baby demanded once his mother hustled them both out of the store. He whapped him in the face with the onesie. " _Ba!_ "

"Of course you do," Dick shook his head free of spit-covered cloth, and Damian beamed at him in victory.

\--

“What in the world is that,” Roy blurted out once he found Dick and Damian enjoying gelato at a table under a quaint white umbrella. Well, more like Dick enjoying gelato. Damian was bouncing in Dick’s lap, babbling and waving his hands and generally looking pleased as pie at the beautiful, eye-searing bat onesie he was currently wearing. An hour and a half traipsing about the Venetian tourist traps had dried out the worst of the drool, thank god. “Is that supposed to be a _bat?_ ”

“Ba!” Damian exclaimed.

“Bat,” Lian informed him from where she was perched on Roy’s hip. The little girl was wearing far more fashionable clothes, albeit in miniature form, and Dick couldn’t help but feel just a little bit jealous.

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Ba?”

“Baa-tuh.” Lian enunciated, and earned herself a petulant Dami-glare.

Roy settled into the chair across from Dick and shook his head. “Told me you were gonna waste Bats's money on cheesy souvenirs and I come back to you buying _this_ thing. That's like the opposite of what you were supposed to do.”

“Hey, I didn't choose it,” Dick licked the gelato spoon and jerked it away when Damian tried swiping it from his hand. “It was buy the onesie or suffer the baby apocalypse. Not even a year old and the bat obsession’s already manifesting.”

“Next thing you know he’ll only want to skulk around the dark. Throw some coins at some pigeons. Adopt a puppy and kick it out just to watch it cry.”

“Roy,” Dick sighed.

“What?” the alpha shrugged and arranged Lian in his lap. The girl stared intensely at Damian, who stared just as intensely back. “Just telling it as it is.”

“Well maybe I just want to enjoy my gelato in peace,” Dick said. He poked Damian’s side, but the baby had gone statue-still in his attempt to outstare the evil girl-baby across the table. “Enjoy the nice Italian weather. Take a couple of photos of Dami in the stupid onesie. Maybe even— _Damian_!”

Damian hurled Dick’s stolen spoon at Lian’s head. It bounced off her face and landed on the table with a clatter. The girl burst into tears.

“Damian, throwing isn’t nice,” Dick said—which was when Lian, still bawling, picked the spoon up and threw it right back. It smacked Damian across the cheek, and triumph morphed into petulant infant rage in two seconds flat.

“So much for a nice day,” Roy sighed once both babies began to scream bloody murder. Dick rubbed his brow and readjusted his grip on the squalling, red-faced infant writhing like a demon spawn in his arms. He picked up his spoon and wiped it on a napkin… and went right back to eating his gelato.

Roy gave him a look. “Seriously, man?”

“I paid an arm and a leg for this gelato. I’m finishing it,” Dick informed him, and determinedly stuck another spoonful into his mouth. For all he spoiled Damian, he deserved some spoiling too. Besides, Damian would stop crying eventually.

Hopefully.

When the baby slipped off his lap and towards the ground like a sack of angry, loud pudge, however, he had to admit he might have been… optimistic.

“ _Gelato_ , Dami,” he told the screeching infant, and sighed when Damian aimed a kick right to his gut in response.

It was the last day before Roy and Lian planned to fly home to the states, and while Roy hadn't brought it up yet, Dick knew he would.

He just... didn't know the answer. Not yet.

He still needed time.

\--

("Come home, Dick," Roy pushed once he finished packing up all of his and Lian's belongings. Dick sat cross-legged on the couch, Damian in his lap, pretending like he couldn't see Roy pointedly looking at the bare apartment walls around them. "Seriously, Batman..."

"...has Jason."

"And you think that kid can carry all of Bruce's shit on his shoulders?"

Dick buried his face into Damian's hair and refused to answer. The baby wriggled but otherwise didn't fuss, not even when Dick tickled his pudgy belly and earned a reluctant laugh in return.

"You're eighteen now," Roy said, standing up. "You don't have to worry about them taking Damian away. And we... we could use your help again with the Titans. Can you please consider it?"

"I'll try," Dick managed, and the archer shook his head with a sigh.

Dick took Damian to bed with him that night instead of settling him in the crib, because he needed to feel the baby's warm little body in his arms. Needed to make sure he was safe and there, and Damian was more than happy to snuggle up to Dick's soothing omega scent.

"You wanna meet your dad, Dami?" he whispered against Damian's temple. The baby wrinkled his nose and stretched like a kitten, and then buried his face back into Dick's neck.

The omega chuckled and wrapped a blanket around them both. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim them both.)

**Author's Note:**

> the story almost directly continues here, in the first fic of the series: [what happened across the sea.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7287868)
> 
> Or in the happier alternate universe: [(please come home)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7816777/chapters/17839495)


End file.
